


Who Even Is this Douchebag?

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Bonus Round 1, Canonical Character Death, Drabble, Dream Bubbles, HSWC, M/M, Mentions of Lung Injuries, Non Detailed Mentions of Sword Injury to the Chest, Prompt Fill, kismessitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  Remember when Dirk met his alt-self and it was hate at first sight?</p><p>For the HSWC</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Even Is this Douchebag?

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously do not know how Dream Bubbles work.

The first time you saw him, your heart stopped. The world seemed to slow down, everything went quiet and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. 

Wow. Who even was this douchebag? 

He seemed to have notice you, too and god, even just knowing his eyes were on you made your skin crawl in revulsion. He looked every bit like the snarky, overconfident asshole with a stupid hat that you very well could turn out like, but /like hell/ you'd ever wanna be this guy. God, even the thought made your blood curdle in disgust as he swaggered closer to you. 

He had a katana propped over his shoulder and he grinned at you slyly, as if he could sense exactly what was keeping your feet planted on the ground. 

This must be a dream bubble. It looked like someone had thrown a bucket of red paint over the guy's torso- it was darker towards the center, more concentrated- and the end of his blade was still dripping. 

Whoever killed this asshole sure did a number on him. When he finally came to a stop in front of you and put the tip of the sword down on the floor so he could lean against it, you had the urge to find who did it and send them flowers. Surely any universe would be better off without this jerkoff alive, prancing about with his stupid shitty sword and- god, were those spats? 

"Bro Strider," He said, and you could feel your lip curling up in disgust as you looked him up and down and /no/, you would not admit you saw any similarity between his pompous gait and your own walk, you wouldn't admit to the similar build, the similar face shape- you were blind to the shades on his face that mirrored your repulsed reflection back at you. 

There was a smell in the air. It was over exaggerated and incredibly toxic. If you were to give it a name, it had to be something incredibly dickish... 'Axe Body Spray' sounded good. 

"Dirk," You spat back at him, not even bothering to take the hand he offered- that glove looked like it had been worn raw, probably gripped tight around this douchebag's cock every night because who in any universe would give this man the time of day?

"Dirk? Well, well. Seems I've finally found you- I remember when I used to look like that. Damn, I was a young, sexy thing," Bro said as he bent at his knees and leaned back some, lower lip between his teeth as you watched his head glide up and down as he looked you over. Just the motion made you feel violated as you squared your shoulders and glared back at him. 

"Your love life must be pretty lackluster if you've sunk to the point where you are courting an alternate version of yourself. It's not gonna be good for you self-esteem when I turn you down, so save your breath and find a mint while you're at it," You spit as you take a step back and fix your eyes square on his smug little face. What was he even smug about? 

"Well, hey. A lot of people have told me to go fuck myself over the years, and I suspect I'm about to get the same line from you soon. Why not make it happen?" He said as he grinned at you in the sleaziest manner you had ever seen, and you could feel your stomach twisting, appalled. 

"In your dreams asswipe, I'm not interested." 

Bro backed up and shrugged before he swung his katana back onto his shoulder. A fleck of blood dotted your cheek and you nearly threw up as you wiped it off like it burned your skin, and you didn't miss the arrogant laugh that sounded from his chest in exactly the way that made you wish his killer had run his the sword through his lungs a couple times as well. 

"You'll come around eventually. Wish I could stay and chat longer, though, but I gotta run. Too many sick fires to start." 

It seemed like he winked out of existence before your eyes but when you felt the ghost of a pair of lips on the side of your neck and a large, hot palm on your ass your blood was ice in your veins even as a faint echo of his voice stirred the hair beside your ear. 

"Catch you later, cutie." 

Your cheeks were burning and you lashed out in rage, but even at your fastest you couldn't even land a finger on your alternate-self, and soon the only trace of his existence was the faint smell of what you had earlier dubbed 'Axe' and the burning trace of his touch on your skin. 

You were going to need one long shower.


End file.
